Harry Potter and the Gift of the Seraphim
by Kara6
Summary: Why is Harry so special? Was it because of something out of his power? Explore Harry's fifth year as many things change- his feelings, his relationship with Dumbledore, and even his destiny. Not your usual 5th year fic.
1. Of Mysterious Beginnings

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PROLOGUE- Mysterious Beginnings

A strange scene was taking place. Far, far away from England, on a desert, there was a gathering. There had not been such a meeting in over 500 years; but something special was happening tonight. Special, and very, extremely peculiar.

If you were to observe closer, you would what would appear to be five men gathered in a circle on the brown, sandy terrain. That couldn't be further from the truth. These strange otherworldly beings were very tall- well above 6 feet. They had long, shimmering golden hair, which softly covered their white bodies. They had beautiful wings on their backs in various colors, each as handsome as the previous, and as breathtaking as the next. Yet, even being so magnificent, they were completely oblivious to what they were and what their presence commanded.

"Alarid," said one of the tall figures, "Are we completely certain in what we are doing?"

A deep sigh escaped from Alarid's lips. No, we're not. How could we be? The stars have spoken, however, and we must take the appropriate measures."

Another creature spoke. "Has El said anything?"

Alarid shook his head, "No, El has not spoken. Yet, I have a feeling that he knows, and has left the decision up to us. We have done this before, Adranael."

Adranael nodded, and his lavender wings quivered as a slight breeze passed through the valley. "How shall we do this?"

Amphrades explained. "We shall embody the spirit in an unborn babe. We have selected the right human, he is well up to the task."

"And the parents?"

"Well," Alarid paused, "We have not asked them, but we are sure they will agree. They will see it as- Excuse me for saying so, but, a gift, I think."

Adranael snorted. "A gift?" he said. "Then I suppose what we have is a so-called gift, too."

"Do not be so rash in judgment, Adranael," Achmael said. "We shall not be giving the child everything we have- especially immortality. This is a very special child. We are only magnifying what strengths he already has."

"I know," said Adranael sorrowfully. "Excuse me for being so irritable. I just feel sorry for the baby," he stopped, looking as though he was in thought. "Is it a boy or a girl?"

"A boy."

"Poor, poor child," Adranael said again. He hung his head, and then took in a deep breath. "Are you certain this is the right thing to do?"

"I cannot be certain, for that is one sense we all have given up when we chose to reside here, instead of with El," said Alarid mournfully.

Amphrades said, "Just so we are all clear, tell us what the stars have said, Alarid."

Alarid nodded, showing his agreement. "Not so long ago-" but he was immediately cut off by an impatient Adranael.

"_How_ long ago? You are immortal, you know. Not so long' could be years!" He accused.

"Fine," Alarid started over. "Not so many _days_ ago, I was listening. Not for the stars, exactly, they have not spoken clearly in a long time. I was about to turn in for the night when I heard the song, very softly. As I strained to hear, it became louder. It told me that the Nephilim," at this, all 5 figured bowed their heads in a regretful remembrance. "The Nephilim have created this _thing_. The stars could not even describe it; they also had not condoned it. This- this thing started out as human, but the Nephilim became so conflicted and greedy, this creature has all sort of mixtures. I do not know if it has turned out good, bad, or even one with the Powers, but it was not a wise choice." All five beings nodded in agreement, it was not smart to disobey the stars.

"The stars spoke. They told me that we needed to fight this force the Nephilim had created. It was not all evil, because the Nephilim have lost all their otherworldly powers into this person, if that's even what it is anymore. Now, the Nephilim are no more than tall, beautiful humans. But, what they have created, I am not sure what it is. I think, perhaps, it is a dark soul of greed, envy and malice put into a body. It is not a real person. Perhaps, it is not also evil. That would make what we are about to do completely useless."

Adranael snorted again. "He would be extremely gifted in the Powers, wouldn't he? I wouldn't go so far as to call him useless."

Achmael shook his head. "This boy is already gifted. He was bound to be powerful. He is also a direct descendant of one who had great Power. I told you already, we are only magnifying what is already there."

"Who is he descended from?" Actain asked curiously.

"Enough!" shouted Alarid. "Excuse me," he apologized, "But we don't have much time! I need to finish telling you everything, and the boy is being born tomorrow. We have much to prepare. I ask you, please, to hold your tongues, comments and questions until I have explained. Agreed?" All members of the group nodded. "Good. I shall continue."

"We are creating, say, an opposing force. We must decide carefully, each of us, what to contribute. Four major gifts, what you think is the most important thing to oppose what the Nephilim have made. I have chosen my gift; it shall be the knowledge of the Old Language. He must know, and I hope he shall listen to those who speak it. One of us must endow a completely different gift- ourselves. For Jehovah, our brother Apostle X-ed himself, leaving behind even El, in an attempt to save the humans form themselves. For Merlin, Ayatael gave himself up to attempt to save humans. On that endeavor, one gift was not given wisely, and changed the course of what could have happened. It was not a failed mission, but it was not as successful as El, and we all, had hoped. It was a reminder, also, so we know that we too are capable of mistakes. Only El knows all. But now, for this child with the Power, one of us must yet again be willing to submit ourselves for the good of the world we willingly live in." He quietly surveyed the group. "Abtared has decided he will X himself. He will cease to exist. He is doing this for everyone."

In a low, rumbling, united voice, the Seraphim said, "Thank you, Abtared."

A tall, lonesome figure stepped out of the shadows of the circle into the middle. The remaining four stepped in, closing the circle, making it tighter. Abtared took a deep breath, and then-

He was gone. All that remained was a wisp of smoke, the exact same light blue color that his wings had once been. Alarid quickly reached out and grabbed it into his fist, knowing this was not the time for remorse or regret. As he held it, he concentrated on the Old Language, and his knowledge was transferred into the light blue mist. The blue smoke grew brighter and bolder as Alarid's gift was passed into it. He passed it on to Achmael, who in turn gave his gift. Adranael and Amphrades did the same. By the time they all contributed, the smoke had formed become a stormy, bright blue ball of swirling blue gasses. Alarid took it from Amphrades once he was done, and put it in a walnut shell that was attached to a leather thong around his neck. Each of the Seraphim made eye contact, and they transformed.

All that remained on the sandy wasteland was a snake, a badger, a crow and a lion. There was no sign of the unusual assembly that had just occurred. Soon after the animals had ambled away, in four different directions, a gust of wind blew across the sand, covering up the residual tracks of the last four remaining Seraphim.

Continued

A/N: I have previously posted this story, but I'm sorry to say it was the ratherer, for lack of a better word, *shitty* version. I'm hoping my re-posting will be much better! Chapters 1-7 are written already and can be also found at Schnoogle.com


	2. Of Enemies and Friends

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Chapter One- Of Enemies and Friends

"Get out of here, boy!" The large man driving the navy BMW screeched to a stop. He exited the drivers seat and slammed the door shut, almost denting the car in. He popped the boot, and grasped a large black trunk by the handles. He threw it on the ground and yanked open the backseat door. The angry man grabbed the wiry black haired boy who was sitting in the car and almost flung him to the ground. Menacingly, he lowered himself about two inches to look the boy in the eye. "If I don't ever see you again," he said, spitting into the boys' face, "It will be far to soon! I don't want to hear a word from you until you're back from your freak show, you hear?" The boy nodded mutely, while scrambling to his feet. The beefy man gave him one last good shove with his side, and got back into the car. Harry quickly grabbed Hedwig from the vehicle and shut the rear door. He watched silently as his Uncle Vernon sped off, the top of the boot bouncing wildly around on the car, as Uncle Vernon had neglected to close it. Harry watched the blue dot become smaller and smaller, until he could see it no more.

On the other side of the parking lot, a completely different scene was unfolding. Another boy was sitting in his car, but it was a long, sleek limousine. He sat, bored, as he watched his belongings get unloaded from his car and placed onto a cart. He only moved when a man dressed in a sleek black suit opened the door from the outside.

"Thank you," the boy said offhandedly in a demeaning tone. He squinted as he stepped out into the sunlight. He followed another man dressed in black who was pushing his cart, loaded with various trunks and bags. As they drew closer to a solid barrier between Platforms Nine and Ten in Kings Cross Station, in London, England, the boy spoke again. "That will be all." He dismissed the older man with an arrogant wave of his hand. As he languidly leaned against his cart, he plastered a smirk on his face.

"Fancy seeing you here, Potter," the blonde looked at Harry, who had his back turned to him. He had been pulling his trunk with his owl cage perched on top, but he stopped and turned when he heard Draco Malfoys voice.

"I wish I could say it was a pleasure," Harry said, turning once again to his trunk.

"Why so rude, Potter?" Draco bent over. "Is the Boy-Who-Lived still smarting about Dead Diggory?" he asked in a whisper.

Harry instantly turned, knocking Malfoy off his feet. "Don't ever talk like that to me again," he ordered. He had drawn his wand, and was pointing it threateningly.

"What are you doing, Potter?" Malfoy looked around worriedly at the crowds of people milling around the station. He tried not to look nervous at his situation, but found it harder for his emotion not to show in his face. "You're in a station full of Muggles!"

Harry considered this, and drew back his wand. "Don't bother me, Malfoy. Remember our train ride last year?" He turned, and pulling his things, he disappeared through the brick barrier. As platform Nine and Three-Quarters materialized in front of him, he cautiously looked around. Seemingly satisfied, he stuck his wand back in the pocket of his oversized hand-me-down jeans. He wandered down to an empty carriage near the middle of the train and stowed his luggage underneath, and then he took his owl to the carrying compartment. He didn't board the train himself, however. Instead, he went to the wall to stake out on a bench until his friends arrived.

Harry sighed as he noticed people giving him a wide berth. _I still can't believe people trusted all that rubbish in the Daily Prophet!_ Even without Rita Skeeter being the head cheerleader for all the false propaganda against Harry, it was still running strong, apparently.

About three months before, Harry had won the Tri-Wizard Tournament, as the second Hogwarts champion. When he and the other Hogwarts representative touched the winning cup in the last task, they had been transported to a meeting with Voldemort. Cedric had been immediately killed, but Harry had witnessed the rebirth of Lord Voldemort who had used his blood. He then dueled with him and managed to escape, by breaking the connection their wands had formed, and grabbing the cup, using it as a portkey to return to Hogwarts grounds. The blustering Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, and refused to believe Harry or the Headmaster of the school, Albus Dumbledore. He blindly refused to see the facts, insisting Harry was lying and implying Dumbledore was a fool. In doing so, he had left most of the wizarding world in ignorance, while the threat of Voldemort; the most feared Dark Wizard of this century, loomed large.

Harry was lost in his thoughts when someone started to shake him. Startled, he shoved the person away, and grabbed their hands tightly.

"Harry," Ron said painfully, "What in the world are you doing?" Realizing it was one of his best friends; Harry quickly released Ron from his death grip. He looked at his red haired friend nursing his wrists, and he flushed a lobster red. "Geeze, Harry, you've got quite a grip! Rather touchy, but strong all the same!" Ron smiled to let him know there were no hard feelings.

"Sorry, Ron. I've just been on my guard lately," Harry apologized. He was then hit from the back, and wrapped around the middle by two very tan arms. "Hermione!" he cried, turning around and returning the hug. She looked up into Harry's green eyes. "Oh, Harry! I've been so worried! When Dumbledore couldn't let you go to Ron's, we almost came to get you ourselves!" She smiled up at her best friend, who was at least three inches taller than her petite 5" 3' frame.

"It's nice to know I'm loved too," said Ron, looking extremely annoyed. Hermione smiled again and gave Ron a shorter, but equally warm hug. She also greeted the rest of the Weasleys, who were standing a short distance away.

After all the pleasantries had been exchanged, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ron's younger sister Ginny all put their stuff with Harry's, and boarded the train after receiving a hug and a peck on the cheek from Mrs. Weasley. She was tearing, but still managed to warn her two twin sons, who were boarding further down the train, that "She better not get any owl this year about either of you turning people into beetles!"

Fred grinned and said, "Of course not, mum. But, really, beetles? We've never done that." He grinned and turned to his identical brother, George, and Mrs. Weasley was almost sure she heard his whispering something along the lines of "Buggy Broccoli..."

In their plush carriage, four teenagers sat quietly. The train lurched to a start, and stream started puffing from the smokestack. Harry was idly drawing pictures in the steam on the window, and Ron was staring at Hermione with a glazed over expression. Hermione, in turn, looked as if she was studying Harry, and Ginny was listening to the Wizarding Wireless Network on her enchanted Muggle headphones. The faint strums of her song produced the only sound in the compartment. 

Suddenly, four voices all spoke at the exact same moment.

"Harry-"

"Hermione-"

"Did-"

"Talk!"

The four friends laughed uneasily. Then, Harry resumed his sketching, and Ron sighed and sat back in his chair again. Ginny reluctantly picked up her headphones again, but Hermione continued to speak.

"Why are we so nervous around each other?" she asked out loud. "Three of us are best friends, and two of us are related! We should be chatting away about our wonderful summers, damnit!"

Startled, Ron looked up. "Hermione," he said in awe. "You swore!"

Hermione flushed. "So? It really is ridiculous!" She looked at her companions. "Come on! _Please _talk."

"Er-" Ron started off awkwardly. "So, Hermione. How was Krum?"

"What?" asked Hermione, her brown eyes flashing dangerously.

"Um...Nothing. Forget I said anything."

"For your information, Ronald," Hermione stated, "I did not go visit Krum. If you just had _asked_ in your letters, you would have known that. He had to withdraw his invitation, in any matter, because they had added extra quidditch training this summer. He said it wouldn't have been fair to me, we would have never seen each other."

Ron, properly chagrined, speechlessly nodded and sank back into a stupor. Ginny let out a sigh of exasperation and threw her headphones on the ground. The vocals of Craig David, a popular Muggle English singer, filled the otherwise quiet carriage.

"For Merlin's sake! Hermione's right. Say something already!" She waited. Nothing happened. "Fine," she said, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "I'll start. So, Hermione, how was your summer?"

Hermione was still glaring daggers at Ron. "It was okay," she said, finally turning to Ginny who was sitting on her left. "I wrote to you and your twit of a brother, read, completed my homework and visited the shore."

"I knew it!" exclaimed Ron.

"Knew what?" Hermione asked dangerously. Ron was apparently still gliding on thin ice.

Ron was oblivious of his delicate standings with Hermione. "I had a bet with George and Fred!" he said exuberantly. "They owe me 2 galleons!"

"And what was this bet about?"

Ron foolishly ignored Ginny's waving hands and her mouthing "no." "We bet you wouldn't become a prefect!"

"I wouldn't become one, is that right?" Ron also ignored Hermione's furious glare. "Well, you owe _them_ two galleons." Hermione stuck her hand in her pocket, and pulled it back out holding a glinting silver badge. "I am a prefect!" She announced. Ron looked like a fish, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly.

Ginny smiled happily. "That's wonderful, Hermione. What about you, Harry?"

Harry looked up. "Well...Not much I guess. A lot of work from the Dursleys. Not too much else."

"C'mon, Harry," Ron prodded his friend. "I know other things happened! What about Sirius-" he abruptly stopped, realizing too late what he had said.

"Sirius?" Ginny asked keenly. "As in Sirius Black? Has he been caught?"

Harry shot a look of venom at Ron. "No, he hasn't," he said shortly. Nevertheless, Ginny's interest was still piqued.

"Well, whatever happened to him?" Her look of curiosity had been replaced by worry. "I mean, couldn't he hurt you, Harry?"

Harry exhaled loudly. "He'smygodfather," he mumbled.

"He's your _what?_" cried Ginny, obviously understanding his garble. "Godfather." He looked around. "But, _quiet_ about it!" He looked outside into the corridor. "I'll explain."

And so, for the forty-five minutes, Ginny heard the story of the trio's third year in quiet installments from Harry, with occasional interjections from Ron, ("I stood up on my _broken_ leg!"), and Hermione, ("After vast amounts studying, I figured out Professor Lupin's secret...").

At the conclusion of the story, Ginny sat back into her seat and let out a low whistle. "Wow," she said. I know something had happened. You were all completely buggered out afterwards. I just never guessed..."

"Yeah," Harry said. He listlessly picked up her discarded headphones and proceeded to examine their fascinating black color.

"Harry," Hermione said suddenly, "What's wrong?"

Harry blushed. "Nothing," he said.

"Oh, it's something," Hermione pressed on. "You're probably going to kill me for saying it in front of everyone, but I _have_ to do it!" Harry tried uselessly to stop her. He should have known that Hermione would figure it out. "You look so pale and skinny! You've always been small, but now you look almost starved. And you have bruises! All summer, we've written you and only received about 2 replies, and those were even in the beginning of the summer. Did you even get our presents? Harry, _what's wrong?_"

Embarrassed, Ron said, "If you can't tell us, Harry, who can you tell?"

A very red faced Harry hid his face in his hands. "You guys don't need to know. I'm fine, really! Besides," he voice dropped to a whisper. "I wouldn't want you to be burdened with it anyway."

"Oh, Harry!" Ginny cried. "We don't just want to know, we need to know! We really care about you, don't you know that?"

Harry choked back a sob. _Don't cry, don't cry,_ he urged himself. _They don't need to know!_ But, he found himself talking. "Well, this summer I got back and everything was normal. The Dursleys ignored me, but that's the usual. Then," he stopped, almost unable to continue. Hermione gently patted his arm.

"Go on," she coaxed. 

"Then, I guess they got a letter from Dumbledore," Harry started again. "It was an okay letter, I saw it when it came through the Muggle post. Extremely normal, just the way they like it. What they didn't like was the letter itself, I suppose." Bitterly, he said, I wouldn't know, I never got to read it." He took a deep breath, but he remained turned away from his friends. "After he read it, Aunt Petunia started to cry. Vernon," Harry purposely left off the title, "ran straight to my room and barged open the door. That where I go this bruise," he lifted his sleeve to show them the brownish tinge underneath his skin on his left arm. "The doorknob hit me when the door swung open. Anyway, he called me- He called me a murderer," Harry finished in a rush. At this, Ginny jumped up and threw her arms around Harry. For a moment, he let himself relax in her tender, impulsive embrace. He felt a tingle go through his body, and felt as though he was experiencing complete bliss. Just as quickly as it came, however, the feeling abruptly left, and suddenly everything was black. Ginny screamed in shock and hastily let Harry go as she felt him go cold and clammy. She watched in horror as he slumped from the chair onto the floor of the compartment. Ron stared in fright as his best friend's wan complexion lost even more color. Angrily, he turned to Ginny. "What did you do?" he accused. She just shook her head voicelessly, staring at Harry's limp body. Hermione was the first to regain her senses and bent down next to her seemingly lifeless friend. Ron and Ginny watched as she put her fingers to the inside of Harry's wrist. In a choked voice, she announced, "He has no pulse."

For the second time, Ginny let out a small scream. Then, she also slumped to the floor of the carriage in a dead faint.

Continued....


	3. Of Slytherin and Gryffindor

Chapter 2- Of Slytherin and Gryffindor

"Minerva, the boy does not need to know!" The Headmaster of Hogwarts paced around his office. The portraits of former headmasters and mistresses looked worriedly at their "colleague" from their wooden frame. "It's simply not the time!"

"Albus, are you so sure you know the time?" Her black eyes flashed with excitement. "We thought we used to know the boy, but you know what Arabella has been saying. He's not been himself!"

"Harry trusts me!" Dumbledore opposed. "I don't want to lose that trust, but I must act as I see fit." He returned to his desk and shuffled papers around uselessly. He picked up a quill, poised it over a sheet of parchment to write, but he had nothing to scrawl. Angrily, he slammed the quill back into his desk drawer, almost splintering the fine wood shaft.

Professor McGonogall was furious. "I am not some bumbling idiot like that fool who dares to call himself Minister of Magic! Do not talk to me in a demeaning tone, Albus." She fixed her pointed black hat, which had fallen askew in the heat of the argument. 

"Must you continuously make everything so difficult?" Dumbledore asked pointedly, looking around his office for something more to do. "Harry will not find out, it's far to well hidden."

"Hidden?" cried Professor McGonogall. "Hidden!" she repeated again. "Albus," she said. "Are you not aware that the information can be found right in our own _library_?"

"Of course I am," gasped Dumbledore, exasperated with the argument. He retreated back to his black leather chair behind his large desk. "But it is in the Restricted Section!"

"Ha, ha," Professor McGonogall laughed snidely. "The Restricted section," she mocked. "Harry's been in there more times than either you or I could count! And what's to say one of his friends won't find it?" She looked at the Headmaster, waiting and expecting an answer.

"Don't give out any more passes!" bellowed Dumbledore. Minerva stumbled back, startled at the Headmaster's loud tone. I'm sorry," he apologized earnestly. She still didn't look reassured, but the determined look returned to her face.

"That's absolutely ridiculous, Albus,"

"I know it is, Minerva," agreed Professor Dumbledore. "I'll do something about it."

"When?" she pressed.

"When someone has the time. We've all been so busy," he answered in a patronizingly calm voice. "In the meantime, _please_ just tell the staff to be careful what they give out Restricted Section passes for, please."

Professor McGonogall was almost ready to scream. "I see will we have to agree to disagree on this particular matter. I will not undermine your," she sniffed, "_orders_, but I will maintain my opinion. Harry's had a hard life, and more troubles are coming his way. It would be wise of you to inform him of what he was, is, and is destined to be."

Dumbledore, usually a calm and placid man, was seething with anger, infuriated by her words. He fought an internal struggle with himself to contain his feelings. Controlling them just barely, he called after Professor McGonagall's retreating form as she stepped out of his office. "Have a good day, Minerva."

~*~*~

__

"Hush little baby, don't say a word, Mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird..." A scarlet haired woman sang a lullaby to her young son, who was nestled in the crook of her arm. She rocked gently back and forth in her wooden rocking chair, which was situated in a friendly-looking nursery.

"Honey?" A young man crept up quietly behind his wife. She jumped, startled, but laughed good-naturedly. As her husband joined in her mirth, she placed a slender finger up to his lips.

"Ssh," she admonished gently. She nodded to the sleeping child in her arms. "My baby's sleeping."

Her raven-haired husband laughed, but much quieter than the first time as the baby shifted positions. He gently lifted his son from his mother's arms. "My baby, too." He walked him to the crib that was placed on the left side of the room and delicately lay him down on his stomach. He nestled the covers up and around his small sleeping body and smiled unconsciously. He looked for a moment more on his sleeping son, and then returned his attention to his wife. They began to walk out of the room together, but before she reached the door he grabbed her around her waist with his arm and pulled her back. Grinning, she caught him around his neck and wrapped her arms around his lean frame. Both blissfully happy, they began to spin slowly to a song that was only playing inside of their heads. Suddenly, however, the couple began to spin swiftly, twirling recklessly close to the crib.

His brown eyes blurred into his face, and the woman's startling green eyes blended with her red hair as the pair spun faster and faster. The crib and the sleeping child dissolved into the chaotic scene. Abruptly, they stopped, and the woman disappeared. The man turned, but he was no longer the young, smiling James Potter. His features were grotesque, with two slits for a nose in his flat, uncolored face. His red eyes seemed to burn a hole in his skull. 

"So, Harry," he said. "Am I breaking up your dream again?"

Harry sat up in bed, disrupting his nightmare, panting hard and clutching his forehead with his left hand. He reached out for his glasses to clear his hazy vision, but his hand swiped through the air. His eyes adjusting to the darkness, he began to make out the shapes of the room he was in. He groaned as he realized he was in the Hospital Wing yet again.

A small sigh escaped from the bed to his right. He tried to turn to see who it was, but had to jerk quickly back to his straightforward position as the pain in his scar increased.

"Who's over there?" the small voice asked.

"Who's over there?"

"I asked first!" replied the voice indignantly. "Are you going to tell me or not?"

Reluctantly, Harry gave in. "Harry Potter. Now, who are you?"

"Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry!" cried the voice.

Recognizing the other patient, Harry asked, "Ginny?"

"Don't you remember what happened, Harry?"

"Er- to be truthful, no not really. What's today, why am I here? Why are you here?"

"Well, today's September second if it's past midnight. You're here because you've been unconscious since the train ride, and I'm here because I, um...I had an accident." Ginny finished, embarrassed

"Oh," said Harry. Gingerly touching his head, he turned to face Ginny. His scar still ached, but it was no longer a blinding pain. "I remember about two things- my head hurting terribly for a while, way worse than this. I also remember someone taking my wand, I think."

"Yea, Dumbledore did," Ginny confirmed. "You were yelling bloody murder and kept clenching it. You must have a very tight grasp, because Dumbledore had to perform a spell to get it from you. Handy, I would think. I've always wanted to be able to do that to one of my brothers," Ginny said. _Wow,_ she thought. _I've never said that much to him at one time. _Inwardly, she praised herself for getting this far. Now was the time to concentrate on not blushing.

"Was it the disarming spell?" asked Harry. He thought everyone knew that one.

"No," Ginny shook her head, forgetting he still couldn't see her. "It was much longer than that. I think, perhaps, it was two spells mixed in one," after she finished, a deep yawn escaped out of her throat. Blushing, she was secretly glad that no light was on now.

"Did I wake you?" asked a concerned Harry.

"Yes," admitted Ginny, after she had already nodded. Frustrated that she couldn't use expressions and gestures, she decided she would prefer to be able to see it. It was just to bad if she looked absolutely horrible and bleary-eyed. _He must too,_ she reasoned. _It's not even properly morning yet._ But, really, it's fine. Do you mind if I put on a light?"

"No, not at all. But how..." Harry trailed off uncertainly.

"They didn't take my wand," Ginny said, giggling. She reached for her mahogany wand on her bedside table and whispered "_lumos_." A small light flickered out her wand, but it was bright enough to illuminate her face and cast a soft glow on Harry's. His emerald eyes almost shone brighter than Ginny's spark, and seemed to give off a light of their own. Ginny found herself unwillingly staring at them, mesmerized. Harry realized he couldn't look away from her chocolate brown eyes, either. After what seemed like an eternity, Ginny attempted to draw herself away from his alert gaze, and in the struggle, she fell off her bed, landing on the sparkling, sanitary floor. The loud "thump" extinguished Ginny's flame, and brought Madame Pomfrey, the director of the Hospital Wing bustling out. The lights popped on in each of the lamps as she passed them, and soon the whole wing was brightly illuminated. Madame Pomfrey was wrapped in nothing but what appeared to be a light blue dressing robe that bore the name _Pomfrey_ on the back and the Hogwarts crest on the front. She opened her mouth to speak, (And most likely to yell at Harry and Ginny), but Ginny beat her to the punch.

"Madame Pomfrey," she asked in an innocent voice, "did you use to play quidditch?"

You could see the middle-aged mediwitch flush slightly. "Not for years, now. I was a chaser in my day, dear," she said, softening slightly.

"You mean you've been yelling at me for years for getting hurt, and you used to play yourself? I thought you must have hated quidditch!" Harry said incredulously.

"Yes, well, it's a much different situation when you aren't the one on the bed. You just don't know what can happen...Luckily for you, mind. Now," she said, becoming stern once again, "Ms. Weasley, what are you doing on the floor? Have you hit your head again? I'll not treat you for another concussion!"

Ginny blushed and quickly scrambled off the floor. "You got a concussion?" Harry asked.

"Just a mild one...Took a bad fall on the train." She said, now more red than her auburn hair.

"And you, Mr. Potter!" Madame Pomfrey cut in. "You have officially set a new record! In the hospital before the term even starts!" She shook her head. "And you are also one of the two people who have ever utilized the hospital carriage on the Express."

"Who was the other one?" asked Ginny.

Madame Pomfrey exhaled loudly. "Neville Longbottom, another accident prone person, not unlike yourself, Mr. Potter." She set her wand on a long table in front of Harry and Ginny's beds. She looked very worried as she cast her gaze on Harry, but she shook her head, as if to clear her thoughts. "Let's check you out. Don't ask any questions," she ordered, "and roll over."

Harry complied, and rolled onto his stomach. The pain in his head was almost completely gone, and the nightmare was but a distant memory. As he felt the soft touch of Madame Pomfrey's hands on his back, he felt the tension release. He also let the urgency he felt to tell Dumbledore about his vision slip away with his hurt.

~*~*~

"Where was Potter today, Draco?" Crabbe asked his friend as he was looking for his show underneath his bed. He groaned and rubbed his head as he hit it on the bottom of his bed. "Draco? Did you even notice?"

His silver eyes flashed. "Do you think the only thing I care about is Potter? I have much better ways to spend my time!" He angrily swept out of his dormitory.

Goyle stared after him incredulously. "What crawled up his ass and died?" he asked Crabbe.

Crabbe shrugged. "Dunno. He's been acting very weird since we got on the train. Usually, all he talks about is Potter, but suddenly he won't say a word. Nothing about the nasty mudblood or the Muggle-loving Weasleys. He's so different."

Goyle was staring in the mirror, trying to knot his silver and green tie was becoming confused by the reflection. "Has he said anything about Pansy lately?"

Crabbe laughed, "Greg, you're really going to have to give up on her. She's never liked you, she's like Draco's extra arm or something."

Goyle sighed. "I know, I just can't help it. She's so amazing..." He gave up on his tie and just knotted it around his neck. He then moved on to the complicating puzzle of his shoelaces. Crabbe sniggered.

"Don't get all sentimental on me; it's not good for your reputation."

"The only person who cares about my reputation is Draco, and he's not here, is he, Vinnie?" said Goyle angrily. "Anyway, all I know is that Draco better treat her right. Sometimes he's downright mean."

Crabbe nodded. "Yea, I know exactly what you mean. At his house this summer, we had to spend a lot of time with his creepy _father_, of all people! I would have much rather been at your house." The two started to walk out of the dormitory. "While we were with Lucius, though, he was perfectly civil. Not _friendly_, just civil. But as soon as we were out of earshot, he started ordering me around again. Sometimes, I can't stand Malfoy."

"Careful, Vinnie, you might be mistaken for a Gryffindor speaking like that!" Crabbe laughed appreciatively.

"How were you holidays?"

"Oh, same old, same old." They opened the door and exited the Slytherin Common Room. "Aggy was horrible, as usual. She starts next year, you know."

Crabbe was snickering loudly. "Stop it," growled Goyle.

"Sorry," Crabbe tried to apologize through his laughing, "But every time you say your sisters name..." He trailed off, fits of laughter consuming him again.

"I know," Goyle said sourly. "Agatha."

"Yes, that!" cried Crabbe. "What were your parents thinking?" He collapsed with laughter. They turned the corner again, and they both ran into something solid, but soft.

"Oof," said Ron. He looked at the perpetrator. "What was that for?" he said indignantly.

Crabbe, still in a good mood, was prepared to apologize to these foul Gryffindor, but Hermione spoke first. "Don't worry about it, Ron," she said in a condescending tone. "Even without Malfoy, they're still goons. They probably have a joint brain." She smirked nastily.

Goyle became defensive, "Well, where's your great leader?" he said sarcastically. "Haven't seen Potter since school started, and that was yesterday. Has the Dark Lord finally caught up with him?"

"Don't you _dare_ say that about Harry," Hermione screeched, pale with rage. "It's none of your business where Harry is, and your excuse for a Dark Lord is nothing but a pathetic coward; he's spent his mundane existence chasing after a teenage boy!" Hermione was seething. Ron looked worried and he placed a hand on her back. She put her face very close to Goyle's. "And unless you want a repeat of the train ride last year, I better _never_, _ever_ hear you say anything like that again," she threatened. She suddenly spun on her heel and stormed off around the corner. Ron stared incredulously at the spot where Hermione had just been, but he quickly regained his senses. He gave Crabbe the best sneer he could muster on such short notice and he scurried off after Hermione.

The two walked on in silence, not even looking at each other. Just before they walked into Professor McGonagall's transfiguration class, Goyle finally spoke.

"Wow," he stammered. "Guess I got her pretty mad, huh?" Crabbe just nodded, still mute. "It was just reflex, really," he continued, almost talking to himself. "I didn't even mean to say that. She's really not that bad, it's not her fault she's a mudblood." He looked at Crabbe who still didn't respond. "If she hadn't have blown up at me, I would probably like her even better than Draco."

Finally, Crabbe spoke. "Draco," he spit out bitterly. "Everyone thinks we're complete prats, just because of him. Has it even occurred to them that maybe it's just an act? It's not my fault I can't say everything I want to around Draco," he grimaced. "My father would kill me," he said. "Maybe literally."

Goyle nodded in assent. "My father, too, though probably not literally. But one day, I'm really going to give old Malfoy and earful." He punched his fist menacingly into his hand. "Actually, I kind of have a plan already."

"Really?" asked Crabbe, interested. "You and who else?"

Goyle scowled. "Yea, it just _had_ to be someone else." He looked at Crabbe's face, and realized it wasn't meant to be an insult. "Me and my father," he said, relenting. "It's a long term plan, and it mostly involves just us. It's time to bring the Malfoys down from the pedestal and show that they're just normal wizards. Are you in?"

Crabbe looked around nervously. "I guess," he said. Goyle frowned. "Okay," he revised. "I'm definitely in."

At that moment, Draco Malfoy came out of the transfiguration room. "What's wrong with you two?" he said good-naturedly. "Really, you two are slower than a flobberworm, and they don't even move."

Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle just looked at each other, and smiled knowingly.

To be continued


	4. Of Returns And Departures

****

Chapter Three- Of Returns and Departures

Harry inconspicuously edged into the Great Hall. As he slunk against the wall, he could hear the happy breakfasters chatting merrily. _Why are they all so happy?_ He wondered. A scowl was plastered on his face, Madame Pomfrey had spent the last two days poking him and prodding him in the Hospital Wing with her hard mahogany wand. He hadn't had a good night sleep in more than four months, since the middle of his 4th year. Although his scar hadn't hurt any more, his limbs were aching. _That still doesn't explain why I wasn't even allowed to use my wand!_ He thought angrily.

The only thing that penetrated his foul mood was the fact that nobody seemed to notice him. While he made his way to Gryffindor table, unfortunately situated between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, it seemed not a single person looked towards him or acknowledged his presence. He would have been disappointed to see Dumbledore looking worriedly at him from the Staff table. Right before he reached his table, Harry glanced up towards the ceiling and saw the beginnings of a beautiful blue day. Unconsciously, he smiled.

"Harry, Harry! Over here, mate!" cried Ron, beckoning him. He shoved a small second year seated on his left off her chair, yelling, "Budge over!" As the second year toppled to the floor, Harry took her seat, smiling gratefully at Ron, who grinned back. "Where have you been, it's the second day of classes?"

"Ron," Hermione said, as if explaining something to a very young child, "We _know_ where Harry's been. I think the question we should be asking is are you okay?" Hermione smiled at Harry as she reached behind Ron's back to give him a comforting squeeze on his shoulder.

"I think I'm okay," Harry said, unable to recapture his earlier dark mood. He piled some food on his plate, much more than he would have usually eaten. "Madame Pomfrey examined me like I was a specimen, though. There's not a part on my body she hasn't explored!" Hermione blushed furiously, and Harry himself reddened when he realized the implication of his words.

"Didn't know you and Madame Pomfrey were that close!" crowed Ron, enjoying his friends embarrassment. "Hey," he said more seriously, "Did you happen to see Ginny in there? She had to stay overnight on the first day."

"Yea," replied Harry, practically inhaling sausages and pancakes. He reached over to refill his already empty plate. "She left before I did, though. Why was she in there?"

"Harry, you honestly don't remember, do you?" asked Hermione. Harry frowned.

"No," he said. "Everyone's been so darn mysterious about it! Ginny wouldn't even give me a straight answer. So will you _please_ explain to me what happened?" he said furiously, all the while still spearing sausages on his fork.

Hermione sighed. "I just can not believe this!" she muttered. "Don't you remember? We were on the train, and Ginny gave you a hug while you were...Er.... Telling us some stuff," she said uncomfortably. Harry colored again, finally regaining some memory of what had happened. "Anyway," Hermione rushed on, "She gave you a hug, and, well...You just fainted! But the worst part was that you had no pulse!" Hermione looked dangerously close to tears. She quickly brushed her eyes with the back of her hand. "And then Ginny fainted, too! She wasn't as bad as you, though I do think she hit her head on the way down. The cart lady came in almost immediately after, and she magicked you onto a stretcher and took you to a Infirmary carriage."

Ron interjected, "Did you even know they had a hospital cart? It was all white and little...Just like a real hospital!"

"You would know if you had read _Hogwarts, A History_, Ron," said Hermione crisply. "They talk all about the Hogwarts Express, which has been around since 1851..."

"Well not everyone is a bookworm like you, Hermione!" Ron retorted. Harry interrupted, trying to head off an argument.

"Well, I'm okay now, so all's well ends well, right?" Harry said forcedly. He had masked his emotions so well; not even his best friends could tell what he was thinking. Suddenly, he groaned into his fifth plate of pancakes.

"What is it?" Ron asked, staring incredulously at his friend's empty dish.

"I just realized how much work I have to make up," said Harry, groaning dejectedly into his plate.

Hermione, on the contrary, looked excited. "I can help you, Harry!" she offered, her eyes bright. "Potions has just been wonderful, well, besides Snape, I mean. And I'm so glad you took up Arithmancy this year! Now you have a full course load..."

Ron and Harry shot each other an annoyed looked, but all three friends pushed back their plates and rose together from their seats. The trio walked out the Great Hall happily chattering about the day ahead. To anyone who happened to look (and many people were, excluding that morning, Harry always drew a lot of attention, and Ron had finally filled out to be a very good looking redhead), they were happy and undisturbed.

Isn't it sad that things aren't always what they appear to be?

Professor Severus Snape stalked out of the Great Hall, narrowly missing a collision with Ginny Weasley as she walked in, alone. _Could the students not shut up for one moment? _It was the constant prattling that just about drove him crazy. _And on a day like this, nonetheless,_ he thought. With his shoes clicking against the stone floor, he made his way to the Stone Gargoyle, which marked the entrance to Dumbledore's office. Whispering the password into the stone statue so none of the nosy students would hear, he jumped back to allow the door to open. Climbing onto the revolving stairs, he tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for them to reach the top. The large wooden door was already open when he arrived to the correct floor, and he entered. Felling something besides irritation for the first time that day, sat nervously in a comfortable leather chair in the Headmasters office. From the outside, he appeared composed, but inside his head, his thoughts were racing. That was the way he liked it- nobody could tell what was going on. Ironically, this was also what he hated. What had happened to close him off so many years ago? This was something Severus did not like to dwell on. Feeling unwanted memories float into his brain; he shook his head to clear himself of these intruding thoughts.

Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix, flew out off his perch and landed on Severus' shoulder. Uncomfortably, he shifted; hoping the bird would take flight again. He detested this animal. It was always bothering him when we wanted to be alone, and when he needed a molted feather for a class demonstration; it seemed to avoid his grasp. _Damned bird_, he thought.

Suddenly, Dumbledore stepped into his office. Startled, Severus rose. "No, no," complained Dumbledore, "please sit! No need to rise for an old man."

Warily, Severus sat. He had always been uneasy around the old mage. It wasn't that he didn't trust him, Dumbledore held more of his trust than anyone else had in his whole life. It was more that Dumbledore was so comfortable around him. Severus was completely not used to that; people always seemed to be on guard whenever he was in the room.

Dumbledore sat in his large swiveling chair and settled his hands on the desk. "You wanted to have a meeting, Severus?"

"Er- yes. Yes, Headmaster, I did," Dumbledore just looked at Severus with his piercing blue eyes. Severus continued. "It's about...My Summer assignment."

"Ah," said Dumbledore. He again waited.

Severus sighed. This was going to be a long meeting. "I would like to report what I have found."

"Please do."

Severus pulled some papers from his leather bag placed underneath his chair. "You and I both agreed that it was far to dangerous for me to even attempt to pretend to reconcile with the Dark Lord, correct?"

"Yes, we did," confirmed Dumbledore. "A ridiculous notion. To do so would be a death sentence. Not only does Voldemort dislike, excuse the term, traitors, but for you to side with one of his sworn enemies? It was a preposterous suggestion; I'll never know why he said it.

Severus nodded tersely. "Well, meeting with some of the less formidable Death Eaters was a good idea, even if it was that good for nothing Black who suggested it." A hint of a smile seemed to appear on Dumbledore's face, but Severus wasn't sure. It almost seemed his face was always like that. "However, I managed to contact five of them, Almsbury, Cooke, Gilbreth, LeManiore and Crabbe. Almsbury was completely unresponsive, I barely managed to make it out of there without being cursed."

"I did not expect him to return," remarked Dumbledore. He refolded his hands. "You can tell me of the plans later, Severus. I am more interested in the names of people who seemed to support our side?"

"Yes, hold on one second," Severus said. He shuffled his papers, but he already knew the names before he looked down at his small list. "Gilbreth and Crabbe."

Dumbledore looked mildly surprised at the results. "Crabbe, you say?"

"Yes, sir. He was one of the first I met with, we were friends back in my school days. He seems to hold some grudge towards the whole organization, and he is not in the inner circle. He is aware of the Dark Lord's resurrection, but has heard nothing as of yet. I believe he wants to make a break from the group."

Dumbledore's eyes became darker. "I do not know how possible that is, Severus. He is now jaded in my eyes...He was an onlooker, while Harry was being tortured with the cruciatus curse..."

"He would have been a complete fool to do anything."

Dumbledore's head snapped up. "Bravery is rewarded, while cowardice is not. He knew the Potters, how could he just watch their son being exploited? I just can't accept this"

"Excuse me for saying so, but I think you are letting your personal feelings for the boy get in the way of what we are trying to do here. We are trying to gain allies for our Resistance, and we cannot do that without the correct people." Severus refolded his papers and put them back into his bag. He beadily eyed Fawkes who was staring at him with a look of approval from his cage. _Approval?_ Severus almost snorted aloud. _Birds don't have feelings._ But, even inside his head, Severus knew that wasn't true. He was a top-student graduate of Hogwarts, and he very well knew that all animals have feelings, except for perhaps, flobberworms. He was just trying to deny the facts. _Why?_ He asked himself. He did not know the answer.

Dumbledore sighed, suddenly looking much older than he had not ten minutes ago. "I'm afraid I agree with you, Severus. It's just that the pain of the boy not knowing who he is hurts me. Every time I look at him, Severus." He pounded his fist against the desk. "And he doesn't even know." Dumbledore looked defeated. "I hate having to hide everything from him. He'll be dead before he knows his whole history! He's so complicated, and so confused; when can I truly help him? And even then, there's the compassion I have for him outside of being the Boy-Who-Lived, even outside of being his headmaster." Dumbledore's blue eyes were wild, and he banged his fist against his desk in frustration. "When will I be able to show?" He said wearily, his energy seemingly having been spent.

Severus looked very embarrassed. In the twenty-odd years he had known Albus Dumbledore, not once had he ever seen him lose control like this. Frankly, it scared him a bit. Timidly, Severus said, "I'm not sure you should be discussing this with me, Headmaster."

Dumbledore smiled wanly. "I'm not sure either, but thank you for listening."

"Er- you're welcome," Severus began to rise from his seat.

"Wait," Dumbledore said as he saw Severus preparing to leave. "You need official leave to complete your...Let's call it 'extra job,' shall we?" Severus nodded. "Take as much time as you need, I will find your substitute." Dumbledore began to shift through the letters on his desk. As he was leaving, Severus hesitated. He turned around and asked, "What shall you tell the students?"

Finally, Dumbledore's eyes twinkled again. "Nothing. I'm sure they'll all have their own theories." Severus sighed heavily. _Damned students._

Later that day...

Where is it? Thought Neville as he rummaged through a trunk. He was sitting on the ground of his dormitory, with his knees folded underneath him. _I have to find it!_ He became more frantic and began throwing things out of the trunk instead of merely sifting through them. Out came rolled up balls of socks, textbooks, pants and even an occasional pair of boxers. As he was reaching the bottom of the trunk, he sighed deeply. _Seamus said it was in here,_ he reflected, thinking back on the conversation he had had with his fellow fifth year Gryffindor.

__

"Seamus?" Neville asked tentatively. He was shy in nature, even with his roommates. Sometimes, he felt kind of left out. Seamus was Dean's best friend and Ron had Harry. Parvati and Lavender wouldn't give him the time of day, and sometimes he got the feeling Hermione pitied him. Neville had no true friends. He was the loner of Gryffindor house.

"Yes," Seamus said, turning from his chess game with Dean. "What do you need, Neville?"

Neville motioned to the portrait hole. "I need to talk to you," he said. "In private." Dean scowled, and Seamus reluctantly stood up.

"Don't cheat," he said threateningly to Dean. Dean put his palms in the air face up and tried to put on his best "I'm-so-innocent" face. He failed miserably. When Seamus got back, he knew the pieces would be changed somehow and that Dean would manage to win again. But, he left with Neville anyway.

"Seamus," said Neville, pulling him close. He shot a look around the hall to see if any one was coming. Assured that they were alone, he leaned in to whisper. "I need a favor."

"What?" Seamus said impatiently. He was beginning to get annoyed with all of Neville's bravado.

"I need your- Your Invisibility Cloak!" divulged Neville in a rush.

"My what?"

"Your Invisibility Cloak!" Neville repeated. Seamus began to laugh, and this time Neville was the one beginning to be aggravated. "What's so funny?" he asked indignantly.

Between gales of laughter, Seamus managed to answer his question. "Invisi- hahaha, -bility cloak?" He choked back another laugh that was dangerously close to escaping. "Do you know how rare those are? I can hardly afford winter cloaks, let alone ones that make you invisible!" He began to laugh again, and you could occasionally make out the words "invisibility cloak" between chuckles.

"Don't play me stupid, Seamus," Neville said forcefully. This made Seamus look up.

"What are you playing at, Neville? Why would I lie?" He had completely stopped laughing by now, and was facing Neville upright, looking him straight in the eye.

"I've heard you talking about it, Seamus! You said 'Sometimes, I use the Invisibility Cloak in the middle of the night!' I heard_ you, Seamus!" accused Neville._

Seamus looked extremely irritated. "Neville, really, you should keep your large nose out of other people's conversations. I wasn't talking about me, I said 'they.' I've never even touched an invisibility cloak in my life!"

Neville was hurt, but he was resolved to get his hands on that disguise. "Well, who was it then?"

"If you don't already know, I'm afraid I can't tell you," Seamus said snootily, his nose in the air. He turned, about to climb back into the portrait hole. "Virgo," he said, waking the fat lady. She had been taking a catnap; she nodded sleepily and the painting swung open.

"Wait!" cried Neville, making one last attempt. "Please, I really need that cloak!"

"Why?" asked Seamus restlessly. He was anxious to see how much Dean had cheated while he was gone.

"I have to meet someone, tonight! How else am I supposed to get past Filch and Miss Norris?" pleaded Neville. "Just tell me whose cloak it is!"

"You get past the same way the person you're going to meet is," Seamus said coldly, turning again.

"I'll tell Parvati you like her!" Neville yelled, a last ditch attempt to get what he wanted.

"What?" Seamus said. Slowly, he turned around. "How could you know?"

Smiling, Neville answered, "That big nose of mine has been listening to other people's business again."

Seamus frowned and shook his head. "Listen, Neville. I'm sorry I was talking about your nose and whatnot, but I really can't tell you! I don't even think I'm_ supposed to know."_

"Well you do," Neville retorted. "And expect me to be telling Parvati. Parvati and_ Lavender."_

Seamus sighed, giving in. "It's Harry's," he said. "We're pretty sure he keeps it in his trunk," he said coldly. "Keep this secret as if your life depended on it!"

Neville just smiled. He gave Seamus a cheery wave, and Seamus rushed into the open portrait hole, giving Neville angry glares. Neville waited one composed second, and then he also rushed into the hole, straight up to the boys' dormitory and Harry's trunk, which was at the foot of his bed. Right before he opened it with a simple "Alohomora" _unlocking charm, his conscience spoke to him._

Neville, you just blackmailed somebody!_ It's all right_, Neville tried to justify_. I just had to get what I wanted!_

Neville was reaching the bottom of Harry's trunk. He sighed with relief as he saw the pretty shimmering silvery fabric of the Invisibility Cloak. Excited, he grasped it and put his hand underneath. He shouted with glee as it disappeared from view. Aroused, he sat on the floor with his legs out and covered those, too. He squealed like a kid let loose in a candy shop. He was so mesmerized by the magnificent cloak that he failed to hear the door opening.

At first, Harry didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. But then it registered- He saw his things spread out all over the room, and Neville sitting joyfully on the floor with his legs missing. _His legs missing? _Harry thought for a wild second, before he realized exactly what had happened.

"Neville!" shouted Harry, rushing to retrieve his boxers from Ron's bed. "What the hell are you doing?"

Neville was bright red, but still defensive. "I- I found your cloak, Harry! I was just looking at it!"

"You just found it out here, on the floor? When I packed it, I put it on the bottom. Did you just _find_ my clothes all strewn around everywhere, too?" Harry asked coldly. Scathingly, he snatched his sacred cloak from Neville's flimsy grasp. "If you _ever_ go through my things again, you'll live to regret it." He began fiercely picking up his belongings off the floor and throwing them into his almost-emptied trunk. "I don't know how you found out, Neville, but it would be in your best interest not to tell anyone about it."

Scared, Neville inched to the door. As his hands touched the cool metal of the doorknob, he turned it and flung open the door. He fled down the stairs and out of Gryffindor Tower. He didn't stop running until he was out of Hogwarts, and collapsed on the grassy bank next to the lake.

__

I know I was wrong, thought Neville frantically. _But I've never seen Harry like that. He's never threatened anyone except Malfoy! I'm lucky he didn't draw his wand!_ Neville shuddered at the thought of dueling with Harry. He pulled his cloak tighter around him as the wind began to blow. _Harry is very different, and not for the better,_ he decided as he watched the sun begin to set over the glistening blue water.

To be continued...


	5. Of Agreements and Disputes

Chapter 4- Of Agreements and Disputes

"Mr. Potter," Professor McGonogall called to her Transfiguration classroom from behind her large desk in the front. "The Headmaster wishes to see you." She balled up the scrap piece of paper with the request on it and incinerated it right on top of her desk. Saying a few well-chosen words with her wand still pointed at the ashes, she transfigured them into a small dark black quill. Smiling, glad that she had turned the note into a Transfiguration lesson, she turned to tell Harry to run along. To her surprise, he was long gone.

__

Left, right, down, right, down, up, left, Harry repeated the directions to the stone gargoyle entrance to Dumbledore's office in his head. He had visited here so many times it was like a reflex to take the path to his office. He had also been expecting this call- Dumbledore would explain everything that had happened and why it had happened, and everything would be okay again. Well, as much as it had ever been.

__

Drat, thought Harry as he realized he didn't know the password yet again. "Sugarquill?" he tried tentatively. No response. "Acid Pops? Lemon drops? Bertie Botts Every Flavored Beans?" He impatiently began to rant off every single sweet he could think of. "Fizzing Whizbees!" he shouted. As a last chance attempt, he yelled, "Canary Creams!" and the gargoyle swung open, right into Harry. Cursing and out of breath, he climbed onto the steps that would take him to the circular office.

"Have a good time, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, situated behind his large wooden desk with his hands folded on it. "It's so entertaining to listen to you figure out the password."

Harry didn't smile. Actually, he was rather irritated. "It would be a lot easier if you would just give me the password, sir," he complained.

"I suppose," Dumbledore said lazily. "How have you been?"

Though Harry was puzzled by the simple question, he answered it truthfully. "Not well, sir. I've been in the Hospital wing. Didn't you know?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Oh, well, of course I was aware of that. What I meant, Harry," Dumbledore pushed his half-moon spectacles farther back on the bridge of his nose, "is how have you been during the summer?"

"Fine," Harry said, looking down at his amazingly interesting pants. "It was fine."

Dumbledore frowned. "Sometimes, I wonder why people hide their feelings. Have you ever speculated that, Harry?" Dumbledore fixed his blue gaze on Harry, waiting for the squirming boy to respond.

"No, sir, I can't say that I have." Never before had Harry felt so uncomfortable in Dumbledore's presence.

"Harry," placated Dumbledore. "Did you receive my letter over the summer?"

"I didn't, but the Dursley's did."

"They didn't show you?" asked Dumbledore, fear evident in his voice.

"No," admitted Harry. "I heard when they got it, before my birthday. I had just come in from working in the garden and was lying on my bed when I hear Aunt Petunia scream. I suppose it was the owl."

"So you have no idea what the contents of the letter were?" asked Dumbledore, obviously overwhelmed.

"No," said Harry. "What did it say?" he asked, feigning some ignorance. He already knew what some of it must have said, for Vernon had raged in his room and screamed at him about his 'crackpot headmaster', vagabond parents' and had branded him a murderer.

Dumbledore sighed. "I now deeply regret my sending you the package to the care of the Dursley's. I had no idea that they would dream of not giving it to you."

"Package?" Harry inquired, glad for the opportunity of changing the subject a bit. "What package?"

"I sent a letter," said Dumbledore, not acknowledging Harry's question, whether on purpose or by accident. "I tried- I tried to put in writing what had happened during the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Not everything, obviously. Just enough for them to understand."

Harry's insides constricted at the reminder of last year, but he also was disgusted. Understanding was something he couldn't fathom the Dursley's being able to grasp. "I don't think they did, sir," Disclosed Harry. "Not at all," he said more to himself than to Dumbledore.

"No," agreed Dumbledore, "I don't think they did either."

"What were you saying about the package?" Redirected Harry, once again posing his question.

"I really wasn't saying anything," said Dumbledore with a deep breath. "But now your interest is certainly piqued and I doubt could distract you." Privately, Harry agreed. "The package contained a letter from your mother, with instructions to have it presented to you on your fifteenth birthday. That's why I called you up here, to discuss it with you."

Harry choked on his own breath. "My mother didn't expect to live either?" he asked, barely able to get the words out.

"No, I don't believe that at all," contradicted Dumbledore. "I believe she would have given it to you whether or not she had lived. I believe she wrote it before you were born, and only gave the instructions a few days" he didn't finish the sentence, and he didn't need to. The silence was enough to loudly announce to Harry what he had intended to say.

"Do you know what it said?" questioned Harry, not daring to look up, afraid that Dumbledore might see tears in his brilliant green eyes.

"No," said Dumbledore in an apologizing tone. "It had been entrusted to me in the will and had just been gathering dust in my vault-" he motioned to a silver metal vault on his wall that resembled a Muggle one, but was missing the combination and key lock. "I was just passing it on. I have my suspicions, but nothing more."

Harry finally looked up at met Dumbledores stare. "I suppose you won't tell me what you think it is," said Harry is a despairing tone.

"I suppose you're right," agreed Dumbledore. "It is not my right or my place."

"Whose is it, the Durselys?" Harry gave a hollow laugh completely devoid of amusement.

"No," said Dumbledore gently. "Your Mother's." He watched as Harry quickly snapped his head back down, blinking quickly to keep the tears sealed inside. He couldn't imagine the kind of pain the boy was going through, and only wished he wouldn't try to mask his emotions so well, even though he could see right through his façade. "But," he said. "About the Dursley's. There is the matter of obtaining the letter from them."

"Good luck," replied Harry sarcastically. "Aunt Petunia probably burned it the moment it fell onto her lap."

"Easier said than done," responded Dumbledore. He fingered his wand that was lying on his desk. "There are an innumerable amount of charms on that letter, each one place by Lilly. I believe one of the first ones she place upon it was a fireproof charm."

A smile crept onto Harry's face. "It most likely caused Aunt Petunia a nervous breakdown when she threw it into the fire and it just sat there."

Smiling, Dumbledore agreed. "But leave the worrying over it to me. I sent it, and I will get it back."

Assured, Harry began to stand up room his chair, but he sat back down. "Sir," he began to say casually, but was apparently very nervous. "You talked of a package."

"Yes?"

"Well, one letter isn't a package. Was anything else in there?"

"Yes, there was, Harry. As a matter of fact, it was a picture. On the back it was labeled Lilly and Best Friend Petunia, 1978.' Isn't that your Aunt's name?"

Speechless, Harry just nodded and left the office.

"Hermione?" Ron quietly tiptoed up to his slumbering friend. He fanned himself as he drew closer to the fire; he could feel the heat almost radiating through his too-short and threadbare bright orange Chudley Cannon pajamas. "Hermione," he whispered. "Wake up!"

"No, Professor..." Hermione murmured in her sleep. "I'm almost done...One more day!" She rolled over and buried her head further into the plush scarlet chair in front of the crackling flames. Ron silently chuckled to himself. Hermione was so funny when she talked in her sleep.

"Hermione," he said again, shaking her gently. "Really, it's past eleven...You should be in bed!" Hermione garbled something unintelligible again and slumped back into her first position. Ron sighed. "Hermione!" he yelled in her ear. Her head shot straight up, colliding with the top of Ron's head, right into his mass of bright red hair. "By Merlin's mother, Hermione," he said, rubbing the sore spot. "Why'd you have to hit me so hard? I'm just trying to help," he teased.

Hermione was flushed and embarrassed. "I'm so sorry, Ron," she hurriedly apologized. "I was doing Arithmancy, it's so much easier to do at night, and I suppose I feel asleep! What time is it, how long have I been down here?" she said rapidly.

Ron drew back from her. "Woah, Hermione, slow down," he said, holding out his hands in front of him in surrender. "It's about eleven-fifteen, I would say you've been down here for almost three hours, ever since Quidditch tryouts ended about seven-thirty."

Hermione looked alarmed. "Oh, I completely forgot! Did you make the team?" she asked. "Chaser or Keeper? Or maybe both," she put her face in her hands. "I'm so tired," she whimpered.

"It's okay, Hermione," Ron shoved into the seat next to her, and awkwardly put his arm around her shoulders. He tried to speak again, but his mouth was blocked by masses of bushy brown hair that had come out of its ponytail. A big chunk of it found its way into his mouth and Ron made a face when the pungent taste of Hermione's lovely smelling lavender shampoo hit his tongue. He pushed it back, and leaned forward to escape Hermione's coiffure. 

"It's no big deal, Arithmancy's not due until Thursday. It's only about a week into school! There's not way you should be this harried already, especially with all your advantages," he tried to joke, but succeeded in only alarming his best friend.

"Prefect?" Hermione realized with a start. "Oh no," she moaned. "I'm out past curfew! Professor McGonogall is going to absolutely murder me!" Ron looked worried.

"Hermione, what in the world is wrong? You haven't been like this since..." he leaned back to think, once again being engulfed by Hermione's wild tresses. "Since third year!" he said triumphantly. He turned Hermione's head to look her in the eye. "You haven't gotten another time-turner, have you?" he asked suspiciously.

Hermione's red, tear stained just stared at him. Suddenly, she broke down. "Ron, it's just too much! I have so much pressure!"

"Like what? I'm sure it would help to talk about it," Ron said, looking at her gently. Abruptly, he was aware of the close quarters he was sharing with Hermione. Surprisingly, he didn't feel at all uncomfortable. This, in fact, may have been more comfortable than his bed upstairs. He drew Hermione tighter in his arms. "Come on, Mione," he said, trying out a new nickname. "You can to me about it, I'm your best friend."

"One of them," Hermione corrected automatically. Ron yet again had to fight back the urge to laugh that was creeping up his throat. Even through tears, Hermione still managed to correct him. "Well, one of the things is work," Hermione started, unconsciously snuggling in closer to Ron's chest. "This year is _so_ important. OWLs, you know. I couldn't stand it if I weren't to pass one! We'll really have to strap down this year."

Ron also struggled against the impulse to contradict her as he usually did, just to get a rise out of her. Instead, he replied," Yea, I know what you mean, Hermione. I suppose Fred and George should have done that too."

Hermione sniffed, "That's what I though too. They have so much talent, it's a shame for them to waste it..."

"Hermione," Ron quickly interrupted. "We're talking about you, not about my crazy brothers."

"I know," said Hermione. "It's just kind of hard." Ron nodded. He also knew how that felt. "Anyway, then there's you guys."

"What guys?" Ron asked, a jealous note creeping into his voice.

"You know," Hermione shifted in Ron's tightened embrace uncomfortably. "You and Harry."

"Me and Harry worry you?" Ron asked incredulously.

"Of course," said Hermione. "You're both always being so brave and reckless and daring and wonderful! Harry would follow you anywhere, and I'm sure you'd trail all the way to You-Know-Who!" Hermione shuddered. "And especially after last year. Harry seems a little more tense, doesn't he?" Ron nodded in agreement. Secretly, he thought Harry was _a lot _tenser "You know," Hermione said slowly, bringing Ron out of his reverie. "I saw you crying last year."

Ron tried to feign ignorance. "Me? Crying? Where?" He gave a hollow laugh.

"Don't be such a prat, Ron," Hermione said impatiently. "It's okay for you to cry, you know." Run turned red. "It was after we left the Hospital wing, after Harry got back from graveyard. Ginny and I went to help Madame Pomfrey get potions and you walked in the corner." A smile was tugging at her lips. "You're terrible at hiding, you know."

"Am not!" explained Ron indignantly. "Well, maybe," he admitted. "It's hard to find anywhere to hide when your house is full of brothers always wanting to bother you. Ginny's the good hider of the family." Carefully, he never admitted he had been crying. He really wished that Hermione hadn't seen him.

"Mmm," Hermione said thoughtfully. "You won't do anything stupid this year, will you Ron?" Hermione asked, her brown eyes looking up pleadingly into Ron's sky blue one's. He would find it hard to refuse if she kept looking at him like that.

Maybe he had looked a bit too long, however, because by the time he had jolted back to reality, Hermione was calling his name sharply. "Ron!" she said. "Ron!" He jerked his head from her gaze. The moment was gone, he realized disappointingly. "Ron, this always happens!"

"What happens?" Ron asked, still dazed.

"This!" Hermione failed her arms out to indicate everything. "Here I am, pouring my heart out, and you don't even listen!" she said angrily. They both looked up startled when they heard a loud footstep and then a thud' behind them.

"Sorry," said Harry, looking sheepish. "I just came to see where Ron was," he explained. Hermione and Ron just stared at him. Harry finally looked at them properly, entwined in each other's arms on the chair closest to the fire. "Didn't mean to interrupt anything," he said.

"No, you haven't" cried out Hermione. She looked into Harry's eyes, and couldn't decide whether she saw disappointment, embarrassment or anger. Or, was it all three?

"Right," Harry said uncertainly. Then he swirled around and shortly said, "Good night," and he disappeared back into his dormitory.

Hermione leaped off of Ron's lap. "Look what you've done now!" she said furiously. She grabbed her books off the table and ran up to her room, stumbling only for a moment on a stray chess piece. Ron just sat on the chair, feeling the warm spot where Hermione had just been, looking bewildered. Dizzy from confusion, Ron shook his head to clear his thoughts. Then, resignedly, he trudged up the stairs to go sleep where he belonged.

Harry was still awake when Ron came in shuffling his feet sleepily. He listened to him sigh, trip over Neville's shoes, and collapse into bed. Harry was extremely confused himself, though. _Why did I act like that_? He asked himself. _What was I so mad about?_ He didn't know the answer, and although he mulled over it all night, he couldn't come up with explanation. The only result was that he woke up groggier than he had been before he went to sleep. Neither Ron nor Hermione noticed, they were to busy wallowing in their feelings. Ron was still befuddled, and Hermione was seething at Ron's seeming lack of compassion. Both steadfastly refused to apologize, or even talk, so a lethargic Harry was their go-between all through the next three days, until they both broke down at the same time at the dinner table, each asking the other to "Please pass the butter."

The people in the Slytherin common room were not so polite.

"Gregory," called Malfoy, "bring me my potions book!" Goyle scowled.

"Go get it yourself, Draco!" he retorted.

"Goyle..." Malfoy said threateningly. "I said get it! I left it on top of my trunk; I need to finish this last essay." He pointed to the direction of his dormitory. "Hurry up!" he ordered.

Goyle sluggishly rose out of the forest green leather chair that was in front of the Slytherin fire. With a frown on his face, he descended the stairs into their dormitory. He went to the corner where Malfoy's bed was, and almost collapsed with shock when he saw Pansy sitting on it, rifling through one of his monogrammed bags.

"Ssh!" she said, looking alarmed. "Quick, come in!" She pulled Crabbe by the arm onto Malfoy's bed and shut the heavy green curtain. "I'm looking for something," she explained, dumping the contents of the pouch onto the soft down comforter.

"That much was obvious," Goyle said. When Pansy said nothing, he continued. "Well, what are you looking for?"

Pansy's mouth set into a tight line. "Evidence," she said. "You know that minx, Blaise?"

Goyle looked confused. "You mean Blaise Zabini, your best friend."

Pansy tutted, still looking through Malfoy's things, paying close attention to pieces of parchment. "My _ex_-best friend," Pansy corrected. "I saw her and Draco behind the locker rooms on the Quidditch field yesterday, and lately he's been partners with her in Divination instead of me!" Tears were shining in her inky black eyes. "And I'm going to find out what's going on!" she said determinedly. She swept the bag and it's contents onto the floor and climbed off the bed. She was desperately trying to hold back tears as she searched underneath Malfoy's bed for another bag.

Goyle swung his legs over the side of the bed and pushed back the curtains. "You think he's cheating on you?" he asked quietly. Not able to say anything, for fear that the tears might escape Pansy just nodded her head.

Angry thoughts swirled through Goyle's mind. _How dare he!_ He raged inside. _I'll tear him from limb to limb! _Suddenly, he remembered his pact with his father. He couldn't let his own emotions control him. He had to contain them, keep them inside for the good of the plan. Some things were far more important than himself.

"Will you help me, Greg?" asked Pansy tearfully. She roughly wiped a stray tear from her cheek. "Please?" she pleaded. Goyle found it was becoming increasingly harder to hide his emotions around Pansy. What he wanted to do is cry "Yes! I'll do anything to bring that slimy bastard down!" but he knew he couldn't. His arms were unconsciously reaching towards Pansy. Realizing this, he blushed and jerked them back to his side. "No," he said coolly. "Sorry, you'll have to work this out on your own." With grim resolve, he picked up Malfoy's stray potions book and turned his back on Pansy. As he was turning the doorknob, he felt a book come whizzing dangerously past his head. Surprised, he whirled around. A heavy Arithmancy book hit the wall behind him and with a muffled "thud," it hit the carpeted floor.

"Fine," Pansy said grisly. "I hope you go to hell with Draco!"

Nervously, Goyle groped for the door handle and pushed it open. He flew up the stars. It wasn't until he saw the back of Malfoy's shiny blond head that he realized he had dropped the book in the dormitory and left it there. He groaned, but just went to join Crabbe on the couch near the snake-patterned stained glass window.

"Well," Draco said, glancing up from his paper. "Where's my book?"

"Still in your dormitory, I believe," Goyle said sourly. Draco scowled.

"You're a good-for-nothing lazy git," he proclaimed. "No wonder my-" he stopped himself abruptly, and put his head down again to finish writing his paper.

"Your what?" Goyle asked.

"Nothing," Malfoy muttered. He mumbled something under his breath.

"What is it?" Goyle asked, irritated. "Just say it! I know you hate me, you only talk to me because Daddy' says to! Well, just be a man and tell me!"

"Fine," Draco said scathingly. He looked to see if anyone else was in the common room. It appeared to be empty so he continued. "My father and his Lord think you and your whole family are filthy traitors who deserve to be burned at the stake like Muggles," he stated. He then calmly resumed his work.

Infuriated, Goyle rose with his fists balled up. "Never say anything like that again, Malfoy!" Desperately, Crabbe tried to pull him back down. "The plan, the plan," he was whispering wildly. Reluctantly, Goyle uncurled his hands. He picked up his own potions book and threw it at Draco. "Here," he said fiercely. "You might want to go check on your girlfriend, she's on your bed looking for evidence of you and Blaise," he spat the name out. He then fled the Slytherin Dungeons, realizing to late that he had given Pansy away.

To be continued...


	6. Of Truth and Secrets

Chapter 5- Of Truth and Secrets

Neville woke up with a yawn, stretching his short arms out over his head. He then rubbed his bleary eyes and flung the deep crimson covers off of himself. It may be getting colder, but I have to be brave. He smiled to himself. This must be one of the many reasons he was a Gryffindor.

Neville used to be the self-doubting one of the Fifth Years, but he hoped that that would change. As of today, he decided, everyone will know why the sorting hat chose me for Gryffindor. I'll show them all. Concealing his emotions, he put on a bright grin as he heard Seamus walked into the dormitory, all smiles and incredibly rumpled.

"Why, Neville, what are you doing awake?" he asked cheerfully, throwing open Neville's curtains. The cold shoulder he had been throwing Neville had apparently been forgotten.

Surprised at his friendliness, Neville checked his Muggle wristwatch his fourth cousin had bought him. "Seamus, do you have any idea what time it is?" He watched, as the energetic boy shook his head 'no,' sending his sandy brown hair askew all over his head. While Neville was staring in disbelief, wondering how anyone could have so much energy at 9 o' clock in the morning without having slept the whole night! "It's 9 in the morning, for Merlin's sake! Where have you been all night?" As Neville peered at Seamus scrutinizingly, he thought he saw a smudge of purple lipstick on his cheek and shirt collar.

"Where I've been is classified information, mate," he announced, slapping Neville on the back as an old pal might. As he sat down on his perfectly made-up bed, he patted the covers. "But let's just say I didn't need this last night."

"So where did you sleep, in the Common Room?" Neville asked, rising from his bed. He bent down on all floors and crawled underneath his bed, looking for his shirt he reserved for Saturdays.

Seamus laughed. "Of course not, I haven't done that since third year. But let's just say that I found a more comfortable bed to sleep in last night."

Startled, Neville tried to lift his head and hit it on the underside of the bed. "You mean to say," he asked doubtfully, "that you've spent the night in someone else's bed?" He looked up at Seamus from the ground.

Again, Seamus laughed. "Yes, that's exactly what I meant, my dear naïve friend!" he said, becoming excited again. He bounced off the bed and whipped off his cloak, which was buttoned improperly.

Neville became agitated. "I am not naïve."

"Sure, sure, whatever you say," said Seamus in a careless tone. He took off his shirt and headed to the bathroom. But he was obviously preoccupied, and instead of going in the direction of the bathroom door, he headed to the dormitory entrance. As he put his hand on the doorknob, whistling merrily, it suddenly opened, pulling Seamus with it as it swung backwards.

"Woah," cried Harry, catching Seamus as he swung past. Seamus, however, was still inattentive and continued with his whistling. He did look up, and saw Harry grinning down at him.

"Hullo, Harry," he greeted him, righting himself. "I seem to have taken a wrong turn. I was looking for the sinks."

With a wide grin of amusement, Harry replied, "Yes, I think you may have. Usually, they're the other way, opposite this door." Smiling still, Seamus said thanks and took the right path to the bathrooms. Unable to resist, Harry called behind him, "Who's made you so happy, Seamus?"

Seamus turned around and stuck his head out of the bathroom, through the door. "You love Lavender too?" he asked happily. "Well, I don't blame you. She's wonderful." He then closed the door, and all you could hear was the running of the showers and an occasional whistle.

Chuckling, Harry made his way to his bed, not noticing Neville sitting on his looking extremely scared. This had been his expression around Harry ever since his confrontation with him more than two weeks ago. He hadn't said more than two words to him either, except the occasional "excuse me" or "thank you," when Harry passed (or rather, threw) him something in Potions. It hasn't been so bad there lately, though, because Professor Snape was said to be ill and there had been a different substitute every day for almost a week now; he wasn't able to partner them up on purpose.

Harry sat on his bed and began to read a letter that Neville hadn't noticed was in his hand before. He studied Harry's expression as his smile turned to a thin line of worry. When he was done reading the letter, he threw it down on the bed and opened up his trunk, using five different unlocking charms. Neville strained to hear the passwords and incantations, but Harry whispered them so quietly Neville almost hit his head on the side rail of his bed, which he was still underneath, trying to hear.

After Harry had grabbed his Firebolt, he turned to leave the room. Sighing with relief, Neville squirmed out form underneath the bed. His first intention was to finish dressing himself, but while he was pulling his pajama top over his head he became entangled and stumbled sightlessly around the room, bumping into things and knocking items over. Finally, he tripped, and fell. Luckily, he landed on something soft. Unluckily, he realized it was Harry's bed. Damn, he thought. Do I have to be plagued by bad luck? He yanked the top off of his head and scrambled to get himself as far away from the bed as possible. In his haste, he knocked the discarded letter off the bed and onto the floor. Throwing a quick look at the door, he cautiously picked up the letter and slowly began to unfold it. If there were anyone in Fifth year that would have a cursed letter, it would be Harry. Feeling more at ease as the seconds passed and nobody burst into the room, he began to read the letter.

****

Dear Harry, the letter said in messy handwriting,

****

Are you feeling better? I was sorry you got put into the hospital wing, and so was Moony, you poor little boy, what has Pomfrey done to you? It's probably no big deal that she took away your wand, perhaps it was just a precaution so that when you woke up, you wouldn't realize where you were and try to escape. Did you know she locks the doors at night? Keep the prisoners, er, patients, in.

Well, alright, I'm going to get serious because ol' Remus here just said, "Sirius, get serious." And I promise that is the last pun, because I really do have to be serious about this-

Nobody has heard anything of Voldemort since thethe third task, we'll call it. And no news, in this case, is not good news. That's why Dumbledore, Moony and I think-

And that was as far as Neville got. Suddenly, the door flew open and Harry stormed in. Petrified, Neville dropped the letter and tried to force a look of nonchalance about his face. When he looked at Harry's angry expression, he was certain it hadn't worked and that he was once again caught. But, to his surprise, Harry didn't stop to look at Neville, who was in such close proximity to his belongings. Instead, he whisked past him and swept the letter up from the ground, not noticing it had been moved from his bed. As he stood up, he gruffly told Neville, "Excuse me," shoved him a bit, and stormed back out of the dormitory. Neville was pushed off his feet and flew back into a nightstand just as the door slammed. Wincing in pain as he stood up, he was all the more determined to show everyone who he really was. And the first person to see would be that stingy Potter.

"Galadriel, please stop! We need to talk!" cried Severus Snape as he watched the woman with long red hair storm out of his dungeon. "This may be our last chance!"

Abruptly, the woman turned around. "First of all, let's get things straight. I am not Galadriel to you, I am Professor Fletcher and you are Professor Snape. Secondly, there is no "our." The only thing we share is the Potions class, and I am assuming this is not what you want to discuss. And third, we do not need to talk. I have spoke all I need to say to you for the rest of my life." She turned to leave once again, but once more turned around. "Also, Professor Snape, I have just realized I am not the one who needs to be exiting this classroom. Don't you have a Portkey to catch at noon? I have a class to prepare for on Monday, and your bags are packed. You are the one who needs to be leaving."

Snape didn't not move, or even blink. Finally, he took a deep breath. Listen, Professor Fletcher," he said delicately. "I don't think I can leave this room without us talking about what happened."

"What happened, Severus?" Galadriel asked meanly. Snape just sighed. "Oh, that!" she said, feigning surprise and innocence. Quickly, her voice changed to one of malice. "When you became a Death Eater?" She smiled sweetly on the startled Potions Master.

"What in the world are you talking about!" cried Snape, nervously glancing around. Taking a step closer to Galadriel, he whispered harshly towards her. "We are not to speak of that condition unless we are in a secure area with just cause!"

"Oh, but Severus, this is just cause, and I can't think of a place more secure than Hogwarts. After all, this is what you wanted to talk about isn't it? Why I left you?" Not even giving him a chance to answer, she continued to talk. "Well, look on your arm. There's reason number one why I left you Severus. And that's just one out of many."

"Please, Galadriel, I don't want to drag up the past again. I just want to talk peacefully with you before I go," pleaded Snape. He backed up and shut the door softly. "I need this before I leave."

"Fine," said Galadriel. Severus looked startled at her agreement. "I'll talk peacefully, and you can listen." Assuming that was better than nothing, Severus took a seat at one of the student desks and prepared to lend an ear.

She started out softly. "I thought I loved you, Severus." As if he had been hit, Snape recoiled in the desk. The first words were the words he had dreaded most. If he had known she was going to start with that, he would have been the one to storm out five minutes ago. Not noticing, or maybe deciding to ignore his reaction to her first six words, she continued, as quietly as she had begun. "When I first met you, I was a young, impressionable witch from America. I had never had any real guidance and I foolishly clung to the first person that seemed to accept me. Unluckily, it turned out to be you.'

You took me under your wing, so to speak, and I didn't need anyone else. You were everything to me, Severus. After six months, I moved in with you. You were gone all the time, but it didn't matter, When you were there, I was fooled into thinking you loved me.'

Finally, the day came that I had been waiting for. The proposal. I was so excited that I spit out the Yes' before you finished the question. For a few days, I was in seventh heaven. Living out every girl's dream- planning a wedding, my fiancé had a steady job with great money and we were supposedly in love. Ha," she scoffed. "I was deeply disillusioned. The day came when you took me to se your 'work.' I work for a great man,' you had said. The best on Earth.' I asked. That is who I had heard was the greatest man on Earth. Is that when you had betrayed him? I don't even want to know. But, then I met him. Voldemort." Galadriel spit the name out like it was a poison on her tongue. "This was your great leader? A murderer? But I loved you, Severus, and blindly I followed.'

My initiation was to be the day before or wedding. Two simple tasks, you said, and you shall belong in the greatest union ever to be created.' I was proud, Severus, because you seemed proud of me. Then I got to the ceremony.

You were there. You know what they made me do," said Galadriel, her voice escalating with everyone. Severus just sat, concentrating on her with rapt attention while he listened to her monologue. "You know what they wanted, Severus! They asked me to-"

"Stop!" cried Severus, overturning the desk. He held his hand out. "Stop!" he repeated. "I'm leaving, Galadriel. Maybe we shall never meet again." She didn't respond; she just looked away, a tear shining in her dark green eyes. She blinked, trying to hold it back, even as more rushed to the tip of her lash. Tears were weakness. She brushed them away with the back of her hand as she watched Severus leave the dungeon.

As he passed over the threshold, he whispered to himself, "I thought I loved you too."

He tried to walk as quickly as he could to the front doors. He had no good-byes to say to anyone, his goal was just to leave as quickly as possible. That's why he groaned when he saw Ginny Weasley reenter the school through the two doors. Even if she did not talk to him, she was bound to spread some rumor about him when the students finally noted his absence.

To his relief, the annoying Weasley child did not speak. Instead, she rushed past him, eyes overflowing with tears. She was headed straight for the Slytherin Common Room, whether she knew it or not. It didn't matter; he was leaving anyway. House Points and disputes were no longer his troubles. Voldemort was.

As he walked down the steps, he was bowled over by Hermione Granger, looking furious. She was so angry she didn't even see whom she had knocked over and she didn't care. She pushed open one of the large doors and fled up four flights of stairs to Gryffindor Tower. When she got there, she locked herself in her room. On the verge of tears, she flung herself underneath her covers, shoes and all, and cried herself to sleep.

"Harry!" A voice could be heard distinctly through all the Saturday night chatter in the Common Room. "Harry, over here!"

Harry half slid, half pushed his way through the large crowd as he made his way to Ron's table in a secluded area of the room. "Have you seen Hermione at all?" he asked as soon as Harry had pulled out a chair.

"Not even a good day? You haven't seen me since breakfast but all you can think about is Hermione."

Ron brushed off the teasing. Usually they were fighting words, almost anything about Hermione was, but he was acting unusually serious. "I haven't seen her since breakfast either."

"So? You weren't worrying about me, were you?" If Ron keeps this up, thought Harry, I think I'm going to feel a little neglected.

"Stop it Harry, I'm actually serious. We had a study da- er, session for three today and I waited in the library until three fifteen! I haven't seen her since! What should we do?" Ron's voice was high pitched and he was frowning deeply.

"I'm not sure," said Harry, leaning back on his chair and putting it on two legs. "I only have one idea." Ron leaned in closer. "We could use the invisibility cloak and sneak up there."

"Brilliant idea!" cried Ron. He grabbed Harry by the arm and started to pull him to the circular staircase that led to the boy's dormitories. Harry had to yank a bit to grab his Firebolt, which he had laid on the table. He was dragged up the stairs and then thrown on his bed, where he tried to nurse his wounded arm.

"Ron are you crazy?" he asked, giving his friend an annoyed look. "This is my catching arm! You're on the team, you know how important it is!"

"Sorry, sorry," said Ron dismissively. "But hurry, find your cloak!"

"Find your cloak, find your cloak," muttered Harry underneath his breath in a singsong voice. He pulled his wand out of his pocket. "Alohomora," was the first of the five spells. He then said another simple locking charm, a French variant of Alohomora. "Admetezz." You had to have the correct accent or all of the charms would return, and you would have to start form the beginning. The third one was a secret password, "Socks," he whispered into the lock. You could hear a clicking noise as one of the bolts moved back. Number four was fitting his wand into a specially made keyhole, sent from France by Remus. The last one he had made on his own. He had pasted a small picture of a snake on his trunk, right above the lock. Concentrating, he imagined the snake to be moving. He slithered "Open," in Parseltongue, and the lid of the trunk gently popped up. At the same moment, so did Ron's head.

"Harry!" he said. "What are you doing?"

Harry motioned toward his trunk. "Following your orders, Ron."

"No, not that," Ron waved his hand. "You were speaking in Parseltongue!' His eyes were wide. He knew Harry was a Parselmouth, but he wasn't very comfortable with it.

"It's just an unlocking charm, I made it myself," said Harry as he rummaged through his messy trunk. He knew the invisibility cloak was somewhere near the bottom.

"That can't be one, Harry," said Ron emphatically. "You cant just come up here talking like a snake any old time you want to. It'll start rumors again."

"So?" asked Harry, still searching for the cloak.

"Just take that one off, please, Harry," pleaded Ron. "It'll cut down time too, it already takes more than a minute to open your trunk."

"But now no one can get in but me. I'm the only Parselmouth at the whole school," Harry reasoned.

"Harry, nobody else wants to get in!" Harry gave him a skeptical look. "Well, nobody would know the other passwords anyway. You've been a bit paranoid since the whole Neville thing, haven't you? He's learned his lesson, I think. Maybe we could be a bit nicer to him too."

Harry triumphantly threw the invisibility cloak over to Ron, who watched his legs disappear underneath the once silvery cloak. "MaybeIf he learns to stop snooping around." Harry shut his trunk, replacing only four of the charms, leaving off the Parselmouth one. "I meant to show you this letter Sirius sent me earlier. It's one of the reasons why I was out flying today." He reached into his cloak pocket to retrieve the letter that had been balled up in frustration. Just before he passed it to Ron, his expression changed to one of fury."Ron!" he cried. "We have to kill him!"

"Kill who?" shouted Ron back in confusion. "Harry, what in the world are you talking about?"

"He knows," said Harry, his green eyes wild. "Neville knows about Sirius."

To be continued


End file.
